Tuesday, August 25, 2015

There are two Coffee Beans that are equidistant from my house aka the house where I’m essentially a squatter. I usually end up at the Venice & Motor hobo-ass CB because I only have to make one turn, whereas the other CB is four turns. Ain’t nobody got time to turn a wrist three additional times. Also, the other CB is a drive-thru and the line usually takes 13-45 minutes to get through. Wait. I do NOT want you guys to get the wrong impression of me. I have ZERO problems waiting 13-45 minutes waiting in line, wasting my AC and my precious time, and I have done it on numerous occasions. I don't want you to think that that is something I would not do. Do they also serve their caffeinated products inside, providing me the opportunity to be in and out with my mocha blended in 3-4 minutes? Yes. But then I’d have to park and get out of my car and walk, and it becomes a whole thing.

So ,I pull into the lot, and there was only one open space, and some man that looked like Cedric the Entertainer in Barbershop was sitting on the curb right in front of the space.

Why are you sitting on a cement curb when there are literally 12 cushioned seats three feet behind you? He made no effort to move when he saw me swinging into the space. Cedric, I WILL hit you. And I was NOT going to be a good samaritan and load him into my car and take him to the hospital because 1) I don’t know where any hospitals are, 2) he sounded like he had adult croup and I didn’t wanna touch him, and 3) I was wearing a shirt that was a little too small, and if I performed any physical activity such as lifting a 300lb man into my backseat, it would have ridden up, exposing my sexy stretch marks and surgical scars (nope, never been pregs). Not even a recently mamed Cedric needs to see that. Most normal people would have moved in fear of their lives, but as I inched my car in at the pace of turt, he stayed put until I turned off Ronda the Honda. I didn’t make eye contact with him because I’m not really doing eye contact anymore, but I could feel his creepy-croupy presence right next to my window. I heard him say, “sister, where in New York are you from?” DAMN YOU, NEW YORK LICENSE PLATE THAT I’M TOO LAZY TO CHANGE! It’s always a conversation starter with the most undesirable people at the worst times. It's always men that look like they were once arrested by Finn and Munch on Law and Order: SVU when I’m running late to an Old Navy sale. How come its never a fucking Yankee or Giants player when I’m coming home from a skin-brightening facial?? Or on my way HOME from the Old Navy sale? The hot guys never see me when I’m sporting my sassiest pastel chinos and my most sensible denim jacket, cuffed twice because I'm a baller. Rude as shit. I pretended not to see or hear him, and acted like I was trying to fish out something from under my seat. Compassion? A soul? A solid 20-30 seconds went by, so I just KNEW Cedric moved on. Spoiler alert: he didn’t. At that point, he was aggressively peering into my car through the windshield. If you’re gonna be that close to my windshield, at least squeegee it while you’re there. So I rallied and got out of the car and he asked me again. I told him I was from Long Island and he was like, “I’m from Albany! Hey neighbor!” Okay, unless you are close enough to hear me through my window, crying while I’m lying in bed, watching One Tree Hill 5-6 nights a week, we are not neighbs. Albany is practically Niagara Falls, which is practically Canada, which is practically Greenland. Go home to Greenland, sir. So this is when I should have called it a day on this CB, but I trudged on.

A nice looking gent welcomed me and asked what I wanted. Because it was 200 degrees out, I wanted a refreshing iced tea. I read the list of teas and went with the second one because I was tired of reading even though I have eagle eye vision (don’t be jeal). “I’ll have a medium (I say medium instead of “grande” because I’m a rebel) black iced tea, kind sir.” This turd looked at me like I was insane. I was like, shit, I bet the shirt rolled up. But alas, my shirt hem was right where I like it to be, damn near my ankles.

Turd: “Are you sure you want black tea?”

Me: …crickets….

Me again: …crickets…..

Yep, still me: …crickets….

Me: “Yep”

Turd: “Hmmm, I don’t know if you're gonna like it. Do you want one of our sweet teas instead?”

Me: ::Pulls off unintended crop top in rage and strangles Turd with it::

I’M SORRY, TURD. IS IT SO HARD TO UNDERSTAND THAT THIS ENORMOUS SEA MONSTER WANTS A LIGHT, HEALTHY AND REFRESHING BEVERAGE? Oh, no. She SURELY wants a vat of the tea that they serve at Madea’s Family Reunion! Did I ASK for the Klump special? Did I ASK if you could quickly melt a stick of butter and pour it in the tea, Paula Deen style? Did I ASK for a Venti Iced Ruben Studdard? Hold the sassy suits, add an extra shot of towel to wrap around my neck as I sing to wipe the sweat away?

Go fuck yourself. I told this hobo that I would still like a black tea, and he nervously hesitated like he had to decide which bomb wire to cut in a Die Hard movie. DIE HARD WITH A VENGEANCE BECAUSE THATS OBVI THE BEST ONE. Please go outside, get some leaves, put them in some hot water until that water turns brown, add some ice, and give it to me. YUM. THANKS.

I went to the waiting area and practiced my breathing exercises. He called my name and I go to retrieve my tea and he hands me a dixie cup with a GD sample of the tea. “Just try it to be sure.” DA FUCK? GIMME MY TEAAAAAA! I was LIVID. I grabbed the cup out of his hand and threw it back like a champ. Was that tea bland and dumb? Yes. Would I have liked to add 32 Splendas to that dixie cup? Sure. Was it worse than Nyquil to swallow? Fine. Did I wanna die? Maybe. Did I wish that I had a pouch of Slurpee syrup concentrate to drink instead? Of course. Punch a straw in that bitch like a Capri Sun. But there was no way I could ask to change at that point. I have PRINCIPLES, people. I had to make a statement. I defiantly wiped my mouth off with the back of my hand like a college freshman at a beer pong tournament, and I literally told him it was the best drink I've ever had. I'm so sorry, every Friendly's strawberry Fribble I've ever chugged. Mommy didn't mean it! Turd finally gave me my tea, and I took it with without saying thank you (BURN), and I walked out the door. I was trembling a little when I strolled past the sweetners, but I was strong and went back to my car, upset to find that Cedric had not squeegeed my window.

This is how much tea remained after an hour and a half. Dehydrated and proud as shit.

ALLLL ABOUT ME.

No, I am not actually a butcher and no, I could not think of a better title for this blog. Multiple times a day, I witness things that make me think, "am I high? What is going on?!" This blog is a way for me to share those tales, along with random rants I need to get out. Warning: There WILL be abrevs. There will NOT be that overly witty tone that bloggers all try to use. If you're not funny in real life, don't try to make it happen here.